


‘The future is but the present a little farther on’

by Emma_Oz



Category: Back to the Future (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_Oz/pseuds/Emma_Oz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doc, Clara and Marty travel through time at the rate of one second per second into the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TLvop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TLvop/gifts).



1885

Marty looked anxiously into the rear view mirror. Doc was clinging to the side of the thundering engine and all he could see of Clara was a flurry of skirts flapping in the wind. He really hoped she was still on the train. Surely if she wasn’t Doc would retreat? But Doc wasn’t backing off and the DeLorean was about the pass the windmill that marked the point of no return.

Marty grabbed the hover board from the passenger seat and took a big breath. Point of no return.

He levered the door open and launched himself. As the train roared past, he collected Doc and then Clara. They landed in a tangle by a cactus. 

Doc held Clara in his arms as they watched the engine pushing the DeLorean sweep around the curve and through the spur to Clayton’s Ravine. The machines hung for a moment and then dropped, almost silently, into the gorge. The silence broke when the engine and the DeLorean hit the rocky surface, metal screaming and twisting while a fireball dissipating into the sky.

‘It was a spectacular explosion,’ Doc said.

He seemed unable to find any other words, so Marty tugged on his arm. ‘We have to get out of here before they come looking for the train hijackers,’ he said. Focussing on immediate needs seemed easier than trying to take in the big picture.

But Clara, with her usual directness, voiced what had happened. ‘Your time machine is destroyed,’ she said.

‘Doc might be able to make another one,’ Marty said, looking sideways at Doc. He might as well know the worst.

‘There are components in the machine that won’t be manufactured until 1947,’ Doc said heavily. ‘We are living here now.’

‘Yeah,’ Marty said, ‘I figured.’

He picked up the hover board and tucked it under one arm. ‘Let’s get back to Hill Valley then,’ he said.

***

Back in town, they had explained that they had been out exploring when they had discovered Miss Clayton had been kidnapped by the hijackers. After scrambling on board from their horses, they had rescued Miss Clayton but sadly the train, with the hijackers on board, had gone over the ravine at full speed. Little was expected to be found in the wreckage, though Doc volunteered to lead the salvage party.

Miss Clayton was petted and made much of by Mayor Hubert and his wife Emmaline, and it took her some time to extricate herself and escape to Doc’s barn. It took considerably longer to explain the complicated series of events that had lead them to Hill Valley 1885, especially as Clara’s insatiable curiosity lead them into several side tracks while Doc vainly tried to stem the flow of information.

‘Quit trying to shield her from knowing too much about the future,’ Marty said at last. ‘There’s no way us telling her about the future could possibly do more harm to the space-time thingy than us being stuck here could.’

‘The space-time continuum hasn’t exploded yet,’ Doc said, ‘I suppose that’s a good sign.’

Marty laughed almost hysterically. ‘If it didn’t explode when Miss Clayton didn’t die, then maybe it’s not going to explode after all.’

Clara said sharply, ‘When I didn’t die?’

‘Ah,’ Doc said, ‘After we rescued you, when we first encountered you, Marty remembered that in our timeline Shonash Ravine is called Clayton Ravine.’

‘It’s named after a teacher who fell in,’ Marty said, ‘Like a hundred years ago. Which must have been you, right? So we’re already living in an altered timeline which means…’ He paused, ‘What does it mean, Doc?’

‘It means that we are all three in a sense strangers to this timeline. We are marooned here and here we must stay.’

‘Heavy,’ Marty murmured.

There was a pause and then Doc turned to Clara. ‘You did not say, Cl-Miss Clayton, how you came to be on the engine? What were you doing there?’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I came here to give you a piece of my mind and I saw this.’ She gestured at the not-to-scale model. ‘When I realised you were telling the truth the other night I just had to come to you. To tell you that…’ She blushed. ‘That your feelings are not unreciprocated and…’

‘Hey,’ Marty said brightly, ‘I’ll just go out now. To the saloon. You know.’

He was pretty sure that when he returned Doc was going to be engaged. With a smile on his face he set off for the saloon, hoping to find the guys who had played at the dance. Perhaps they needed another guitarist?

***

A few months later a travelling preacher rode into town. The McFlys took the opportunity to have William baptised, with Maggie’s lips pursed in disapproval at the lack of Catholic prayers. He consecrated the graves of two prospectors who had died of yellow fever, and he married Doc and Clara. 

She wore her purple sateen dress. Doc worse his high collared jacket and looked nearly ready to explode with excitement. Marty wore his best clothes, bought for a few dollars with money he had earned helping the McFlys harvest their wheat crop. Mayor Hubert used his camera to take a daguerreotype of the wedding party, smiling in his front parlour. 

‘You’ll need a frame for that,’ Marty commented as they strolled back to the smithery. ‘And a house to put it in.’

‘I’ll be quite happy in the barn,’ Clara said.

‘I’ve bought a lot,’ Doc said. ‘I’ll start building the house tomorrow. But I have a better idea of what to do with the photograph.’

‘Yes?’ Clara asked, tucking her arm through Doc’s.

‘I intend to send a package to the McFlys. George and Lorraine McFly, I mean. I will send it by delay to 1st November 1985.’

‘The same as you did when I was stranded on the side of the road in 1955!’ Marty exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘You’re not thinking fourth-dimensionally,’ Doc said.

Clara was always quick. ‘You want to send the image of you and Marty to his parents to demonstrate that you are safe.’

Marty stopped in the street. ‘I’ve been worrying about that. As far as my folks know, I just got up one morning and I disappeared. They must think I was killed or on drugs or…’ He glanced at Doc. ‘Most likely they think Doc abducted me. Him going missing at the same time, that must look really suspicious.’

‘You can write them a letter assuring them that you are fine,’ Clara said, ‘Just temporarily displaced.’

‘I’ll write immediately,’ Marty said. ‘In fact, I’m going to write a couple of letters in case one gets lost. I need to let them know I’m OK. Jennifer too.’

‘I will be writing as well,’ Doc said, ‘Because someone has to take care of Einstein.’

‘Linda loves dogs,’ Marty said absently. ‘I’ll write the letter at the school house. I promised Hubert I’d shingle it.’

He blushed. ‘In fact, I was planning to stay out there tonight and maybe tomorrow night while I finish up. So, you know, enjoy your honeymoon.’

Doc blushed as well, but Clara simply said, ‘Send my regards to your parents.’


	2. The Future

1889

Doc tossed Verne into the air and the baby squealed with delight. ‘I’ve finished repairing the Jones’ dung wagon,’ he said.

‘I hope you cleaned your hands before you picked up the baby,’ laughed Clara.

‘Thoroughly, I can assure you.’

Marty smiled. ‘Me too. After I took those stubborn mules off to be watered. What I would not give for a few nice, clean cars.’

‘When are automobiles invented?’ inquired Clara, ‘I’d like to ride in one.’

Doc’s eyes lit up. ‘The first internal combustion road machine was made by Karl Benz in 1885 in Germany. His wife Bertha was the first person to make a long journey in one. Ride in one? Why, you’ll drive one!’

‘How long before they come here?’ Marty asked.

‘Why wait for them to come here?’ Clara’s eyes flashed. ‘Let’s go and see them.’

‘Daimler exhibits his converted buggies at the World Exposition,’ Doc said. ‘We could go.’

Marty glanced at Verne. ‘All of us?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ Clara said firmly. ‘And Emmett can display there. His ice machine or the flame thrower, perhaps. We shall all go to the World Exposition in Paris.’

***  
1890

Clara waved to Emmaline and called out a promise to be with her shortly. She turned back to the post office, a fine new stone building.

The clerk smiled. ‘Another letter on delay?’ he asked. ‘We all wonder if there will be another Emmett Brown at this John Kennedy address that doesn’t exist.’ 

‘It’s an experiment,’ Clara smiled. ‘This one is to be kept until June 6th 1972.’

Enclosed in oiled parchment was a letter from her describing the recent dance Marty had played at, a note from Marty describing the antics of their dog Galileo, an essay written laboriously by Jules and a slightly blurry photograph of the main street taken with the new Brownie camera.

She was so very pleased that they had found a way to talk to Emmett in the long period between Marty’s visit to him in 1955 and finding a younger Marty retrieving a ball from his yard in 1982. He wouldn’t be alone.

She hummed to herself. After she had spent the morning at the sewing circle, she would begin her next letter, this time to Marty. Eventually Emmett’s rejuvenation therapy would wear off and in the course of things she would also die before Marty, leaving him alone in Hill Valley. She remembered what Jules Verne had written: Solitude, isolation, are painful things and beyond human endurance.

But neither Marty nor Emmett would be left entirely alone if she could help it. 

***  
1897

‘Emmaline told me that the Wilson boy definitely has polio,’ Clara said. 

Doc looked up from where he was tinkering with a spark plug. ‘How is he doing?’

‘His left arm is very weak, apparently,’ Clara said. She picked up her mending and then put it down again. ‘Emmett, the boys were visiting young Sam only last week…’

Doc took her hand. ‘I know, I know.’

They sat for a moment, listening to the boys’ shrill voices outside. They were building a den in a nearby elm and the process involved shrieks of excitement, rapid arguments and high pitched instructions. They heard the gate bang and Marty called out cheerful greetings and repeated the phrase ‘not too far up’.

He barged through the door, looking over his shoulder. ‘I think that tree house is going to be a high rise,’ he said. Then, turning, he asked quickly, 'What is it? What’s up?’

Clara explained but Marty still looked blank.

‘Polio is a harrowing disease,’ Doc added.

Clara’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you not know about this disease, Marty?’

‘Because no one has it,’ Marty replied. ‘Not in the 1980s.’

‘There’s a vaccine,’ Doc said. ‘My God, Marty, there’s a vaccine in your blood stream.’

Clara pushed his shoulder. ‘Well, go on then. Find some way to use that.’

Doc began muttering under his breath. ‘Need to isolate – how to purify? – in the meantime a simple transfer of blood?’

Clara nodded. ‘While you are thinking of how to do it scientifically, we will begin by making little cuts on the boys and putting in a few drops of Marty’s blood. It can’t hurt and it might help. That’s how my mother vaccinated me against smallpox.’

She rose to call the children in.

‘I’ll boil the knife,’ Marty said, heading to the kitchen. ‘How about I give some blood to you two as well? Does polio hit adults too?’

‘Not so often,’ Clara said. She patted Marty’s cheek, ‘But I’d be very pleased to be joined to you by blood as well as affection.’

***  
1899

Jules was writing an address on a grubby envelope. ‘Could you post this when you go into town, Marty?’

‘Sure,’ Marty said, ‘I’ll be heading over to visit with Miss Strickland in a while.’

Jules shot him what was a very knowing look for a thirteen year old. 

‘I have the greatest respect for her,’ Marty said haughtily. He changed the subject. ‘Who is the letter to?’

‘Mr Jules Verne,’ Jules replied, ‘I want his signature. Don’t try to talk about something else. Don’t you miss Jennifer?’

Marty looked at Jules, just hitting a growth spurt. ‘Of course I do,’ he said, ‘But that was a long time ago, when we were teenagers. And it’s not like I’ll see her again. She won’t be born til I’m like a hundred.’

He paused again. ‘My real life is here now.’

***  
1901 

‘Happy new year! Happy new year!’ Their voices chorused over each other.

Clara flung open the window and they could hear the town clock chiming mid-night. ‘Now I have become a time traveller too! I have moved from the nineteenth century to the twentieth century!’

She kissed Emmett.

***  
1905

‘I think this will work better,’ Doc gestured at the greatly enhanced phonograph. The original machine could barely be seen amidst his improvements.

‘Brilliant!’ enthused Marty, ‘Let’s try the Beethoven. It’s as close to rock as we are going to get.’ He very carefully took out the glass record. ‘You know, if we weren’t living here and now I would never have got to like this music.’

‘In the meantime, set it to 10,’ Doc said. ‘I think you’ll be pleased.’

The music blasted out. ‘Heavy!’ Marty shouted to Clara.

***  
1908

It was a rainy day in California. Clara dropped the first handful of wet dirt into the grave. The boys followed, and then Marty. 

Clara held onto her two boys, tall and looking much like their father, as a crowd of mourners filed past to pay their last respects. There were old timers who remembered when Doc came into town decades ago, Marshall Strickland looking barely older than when they first met him, their dear friends the Thomas family, the Wilsons, all the members of Marty’s band. The McFlys had come in from their farm. There were new comers too. The postal clerk who teased Emmett about his letters and the new doctor in town, Dr von Braun just arrived from Germany.

The minister concluded the service and assured the congregation that Emmett Brown would be born again in glory.

‘That’s true enough,’ Marty whispered, ‘In 1920, right here in Hill Valley.’

***  
1910

Clara came through the door, holding a bundle of letters in her hand. ‘There’s a whole lot of correspondence from Verne,’ she said, ‘The postmarks say Lima but I get the feeling he was further inland than that.’

Marty smiled. ‘Shall we try to put them in order or read them as they come?’

‘As they come,’ Clara replied. Marty took out the letter knife and perched his glasses on his nose.

‘The first one is… Huh, the first one is from the University of Southern California.’

Clara blushed. ‘Well, I was thinking of looking at the admission requirements.’

Marty grinned. ‘They’d be lucky to have you, considering you’re one of the two smartest people I know.’

‘I am in my sixties,’ Clara said, ‘I’m not sure I’m bright enough.’

‘Pshaw,’ Marty replied. ‘Einstein was sixty seven when he invented the bomb.’

‘Was he?’ Clara asked.

‘Actually I have no idea. But he had crazy white hair like Doc,’ Marty said, ‘What are you thinking of studying? Astronomy?’

‘No,’ Clara said, ‘I was thinking of studying literature. I love Verne and Tolstoy and Dickens. I would like to study them thoroughly.’

‘The campus is in Los Angeles, isn’t it?’ Marty asked. ‘I wonder if they’d take me?’

‘I’m sure they would, if you wanted to study.’

‘I never thought I’d get to go to college. I wasn’t a great student and it was super expensive and, you know, I never graduated high school.’

Clara wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Neither did I. I had a governess. I shared her with my brothers until they went to the war.’

‘That’s what I would like to study,’ Marty said promptly, ‘I’d like to study history. I want to know about the civil war. It’s still not understood, not resolved in the 1980s. At school the teachers couldn’t even say what it was over – State’s rights or slavery.’

Clara sniffed. ‘My family were abolitionists, so I know why my brothers fought.’

‘What I’d really like to know is what it was like for people who were slaves. Has anyone asked them? Is there a record of what they have to say?’

‘I don’t know,’ Clara said thoughtfully. ‘The history faculty at the university might be able to help. It doesn’t sound like something that would be a priority.’

‘If I got some training, perhaps I could do some interviews myself? So what they have to say can be remembered,’ Marty asked. ‘Let’s read the paperwork from the university. Maybe we could spend some of the money from Doc’s patents?’

***

1920

Marty handed the key to Katy McFly. ‘I appreciate you looking after the place while I’m away,’ he said, ‘You can use the house whenever you want to, I’d like someone to be using it and I’m not expecting the boys home any time soon.’

Katy smiled tremulously. The boys had both been back in Hill Valley only a few months ago, for Clara’s funeral. 

‘Just forward any letters to me post restante New York.’ Marty said firmly.

‘What’s in New York?’ 

‘The Harlem Renaissance,’ Marty replied. ‘I’m looking forward to hearing some music with a bit more syncopation.’ 

***  
1927

Marty got a job playing the piano at the newly opened Town Theatre. He loved choosing the music to accompany the movies that flickered in black and white on the screen.

Usually he would go with some of the jazz he had picked up in Harlem, but for the romantic scenes he would play selections of the Mozart he had learned from the gramophone Doc and Clara had given him. Sometimes he amused himself with scraps of Van Halen and the Imperial March from Star Wars.

The other staff at the cinema would slip into the seat near him whenever they had a pause in their duties. His favourite was Stella Baines, who wore a perky cap and flirted as she scooped out popcorn for the customers. She didn’t look anything like his mother, but sometimes gestured with her hands in a way that gave him a pang.

***  
1934

Verne knocked on the open door and smiled.

‘Verne! I thought you were somewhere in Tibet, I wasn’t expecting you.’ Marty said.

‘There was a change of plans and I was stuck in Los Angeles for the weekend. I had just enough time to visit you. The ship’s not leaving til Tuesday.’

‘Well come on in, Verne. Tell me about your research.’

Marty poured two glasses of lemon squash, and they sat on the verandah as Verne explained he would be collaborating on an archaeological dig in the mountains.

‘Not many strangers have been there so it should be fun,’ he concluded.

Marty had been silent for a while. ‘It’s actually pretty good timing that you’re here,’ he said, ‘I can give you something I’ve been meaning to hand over for a while.’

Verne raised an eyebrow.

‘Why don’t you take the hover board with you?’ Marty said.

‘But it’s yours.’

Marty snorted. ‘Technically, it belongs to a little girl born in the twenty first century. It’s not like I use it anymore and it could be really useful to you. You can transport a lot of weight on it.’

Verne acknowledged that that would be handy.

‘Just remember that you can’t use it on water,’ Marty chuckled. ‘If you tried to cross a river on it, you’d fall off. Might get frozen to an icicle. Your mother would kill me.’

‘Speaking of mother, have you heard from her recently?’ Verne asked.

‘I got a bundle of letters only the other day,’ Marty said, ‘They were sent in 1902 and you sent me a drawing of me. At least, I think it’s me though I do seem to have three legs.’

‘Let’s have a look then,’ he said as Marty tossed some the drawing to him. ‘You can see why I didn’t grow up to be an artist.’

‘I’ll package them up for you again and send them care of the University. What year?’

Verne picked a figure from the air. ‘1959.’

***  
1938

Marty felt very tired, but he still intended to write a long letter. It had been a big day. He’d walked to the train station where Emmett Brown’s parents were farewelling him. He was just some person Doc saw around, but he had nonetheless clapped him on the back and said, ‘You’ll be a credit to Princeton, young Emmett. I know you’ll do big things.’

As he slowly made his way home he’d seen his grandmother carrying a carefully wrapped bundle of blankets that he knew contained his infant father.

He had a lot to do and not much time left to do it in. He picked up the pen.

Dear Doc,

This is the last of a long series of letters you are going to receive. The last one I’ll write, I think, but the first you will receive. 

If things go as planned, the Western Union delivery man should give this to you on November 17th 1955, the day after I left you last time. Because what happens next, Doc, is… well, it’s a whole lot of stuff. You invent the time machine. I get born. I meet you. We travel in time.

And then we go to Hill Valley 1885 and the time machine is destroyed. 

This might sound bad as you read it, but, trust me, it works out for the best.

That’s how you meet Clara. You guys get married. Your kids are the greatest, if I do say so as their uncle. They are both as bright as… well as you and Clara. Jules is in South America at the moment, studying biology somewhere in the interior of Peru. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t interest him in physics or mathematics. And Verne is even more of an adventurer. Last time he wrote he was doing some kind of hush hush research in Arctic Circle.

I can just hear you saying ‘Great Scott!’ as you read this.

There’s more, lots more, but the short version is that you started off as the local blacksmith. After our first trip to Europe you started making experimental cars and running the garage. By the way: your attempt at the five valve car – please don’t do it! It’s just going to explode! And that just worries Clara. 

Come to think of it, the kids probably got their wanderlust from being hauled all over the world when they were young. But at the end of each trip we’d come home to Hill Valley. I was born here and I’m just about ready to die here. My gravestone should properly read: Marty McFly, 1968-1938.

Please do not think that my life was lost or wasted just because it has been a bit… non-linear. I have done so damn much. Do you know I got to see the Eiffel Tower being built? I met Thomas Edison and gave him a few ideas. I’ve seen Josephine Baker dance and I’ve heard Michael Jackson sing. I’ve played so much music, met a few ladies, got to help raise your kids, and I love you and Clara so much.

I have had my life, all of it here in Hill Valley. I’ve got a quote for you from one of your favourite authors. I have bloomed where I was planted, my friend, I have grown my branches here.

Looking forward to seeing you again, your friend in time, Marty

He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1889  
> Bertha Benz was a German automotive pioneer, the wife and business partner of automobile inventor Karl Benz. In 1888, she was the first person to drive an automobile over a long distance. In 2008, the Bertha Benz Memorial Route was officially approved as a route of the industrial heritage of mankind. 
> 
> Gottlieb Daimler and Wilhelm Maybach had built the world’s first four-wheeled automobile – a carriage equipped with internal combustion engine and steering device. 1886 was also the year in which Carl Benz presented his Patent Motor Car. Both were on display at the World Exposition in Paris.
> 
>  
> 
> 1897  
> The first polio vaccine was developed in the 1950s by Jonas Salk. I’m pretty sure that you couldn’t share the vaccine as I described but there was a nineteenth-century practice of sharing blood or pox between people with smallpox and uninfected children so as to provide immunity. This is what Clara is referencing.
> 
>  
> 
> 1899  
> Jules Verne died in 1905.
> 
>  
> 
> 1903  
> Clara is quoting Jules Verne’s The Mysterious Island, 1874.
> 
>  
> 
> 1908  
> I have gone with the 1920 date of birth for Doc given in the novelisation, rather than the 1922 one given in the animated series. 
> 
>  
> 
> In 1908 the von Brauns move to Hill Valley, changing the family name to Brown during World War One.
> 
>  
> 
> 1910  
> I am going to imagine Marty did an oral history program similar to the one undertaken as part of the Federal Writers’ Project of the Works Progress Administration (WAP) in the 1930s, in which more than 2,300 people born as slaves gave first-hand accounts of their experiences. These are available as Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers' Project, 1936-1938. 
> 
> Also, Clara would ace college. And she wouldn’t be the University of Southern California’s oldest graduate as Mrs Amy Winship, a girlhood friend of Abraham Lincoln, attended the college in 1918 at the age of eighty seven.
> 
>  
> 
> 1920  
> I am ignoring the birth year of 1855 given in the animated series and instead basing Clara’s age on the age of the actress who played her. This gives her a birth year of 1848.
> 
>  
> 
> 1927  
> Stella Baines was Lorraine Baines McFly’s mother.
> 
>  
> 
> 1938  
> Mary is referencing Jules Verne, The Sphinx of the Ice Fields, 1897. ‘When one has taken root, one puts out branches.’
> 
> The Eiffel tower was built for the World Fair in 1889. 
> 
> I cannot find canon on where Doc went to university. The director suggested he might have worked on the Manhattan project, explaining why the Libyan terrorists were confident he could make a nuclear bomb.
> 
>  

**Author's Note:**

> Tlvop asked for Clara and Doc’s adventures in turning the train into a time machine, or the trip they take on their eventual time-travelling honeymoon, or what made Doc change his mind about destroying the time machine and learn to embrace the ridiculous. 
> 
> What I’ve written is Clara and Doc and Marty’s adventures travelling through time at the rate of one second per second into the future after the time machine leaves them stranded in 1885. 
> 
> I consider this to be a happy story. Some characters do die, but of old age while surrounded by loved ones.
> 
>  
> 
> General  
> For useful information on Marty’s maternal grandmother’s name and Doc’s address and the name of the manure moving company in Hill Valley, check out the detailed information at: http://backtothefuture.wikia.com/.
> 
> Most aspects of the chronology are based on movie canon rather than the animated series. 
> 
>  
> 
> Title  
> The quote is from Jules Verne, Five Weeks in a Balloon or Journeys and Discoveries in Africa by Three Englishmen, 1863.
> 
>  


End file.
